Fredrick
by Slash Lovuh
Summary: Spoilers for seventh book. FredGeorge twincest. Unedited. Rated for concept of twincest.


Title: Fredrick  
Summary: George contemplates Fred's death, thinking over the times they shared. Slash, twincest.  
Authors Note: Twincest, slash, so if you no likey, scram. Also, this is not edited, so don't expect anything great.

When I was about six years old, I had this fever. It was pretty high, but I was okay. I knew that if I told my mom she would make me go to the hospital, so I hadn't told her.

I was outside our house, sitting on the porch with my brother, when our Dad had come out, smiled at us, and gotten into his car. He started it up; he always had to drive about a mile before he got it in the air, and left.

That's when it hit me. I sighed angrily, and said, "I needed Dad to pick me up some popsicles." I had told Fred this plan before. I would get my fever down by asking for popsicles, and eating the whole box. Dad never refused ice-cream requests, especially if we asked for them to be bought from a muggle store.

I could have caught up with him, but I was too weak to run, so I decided to forget about it. But I couldn't forget about it. Because before I knew it, Fred had taken off, running after our dad, dead-set on telling him I wanted popsicles. I stood up to watch him go – I didn't know he could run that fast – and when Dad saw him, he pulled over. Fred said something to Dad, and then Dad left, Fred came back.

I used to think of that story and feel protected. Like my brother, who was exactly sixty seconds older than I was, would run a quarter of a mile to get me popsicles so I could get my fever down. I don't know why it was protection I felt – maybe there are times I needed protection – but I felt it anyway.

Over a decade later, I held my dead brother in my arms, as all hell broke loose around me. My mother and father had started to fight again; everybody was involved in the war, except me. I sat there with him in my arms, stroking his hair, trying to soothe myself.

I remember the last moment I spent with Fred. The last real moment, where we focused only on each other, not on any outside distractions. It was an hour before we went into battle. I was listening to a conversation, although I had no idea what anybody was talking about, when I felt him take my wrist and lead me into an empty room.

Have you ever had a moment that seemed to last forever? I was a kid then, unaware that I was about to lose my childhood in this battle, and maybe, when you're a kid, everything is forever. But the look he gave me in the empty room… He seemed to look at me like that for hours, although it was hardly a second.

Then, He smiled playfully, and as soon as the door was locked, he said, "The worlds coming to an end." His eyes sparkling.

I smiled at him. But a sad smile, almost wan.

"If one of us dies…" I started.

Fred took a step forward and touched my shoulder, as if to say he didn't want to talk about that.

God, I loved Fred. Not in a way a brother is supposed to love his twin, either. I wanted to posses and be possessed by him, I wanted to touch him… we had touched each other before, which had scared the hell out of us.

We had been fifteen the first time. Fred had been ignoring me for a while, and I didn't know why. Finally, I found him when he was alone. I walked into the room, and before he had a chance to leave, I took his hand. "Do you hate me, Fred?" I had asked. It had hurt so badly, the fact that Fred was ignoring me.

The question took him by surprise, apparently, because he didn't answer for a moment. And then: "I do not hate you, George. I've never loved anyone more than I love you…"

I had been annoyed. I knew that I was sexually attracted to him at that point, but I had never guessed that he felt the same way. And when he suddenly stopped being around me, stopped hugging me, stopped being my brother… I hadn't understood. God, I had been stupid. But, as a response to his pledge of affection, I asked, "Then why don't you touch me anymore? You used to hug me and kiss me and love me… like brothers are supposed to."

He kissed me lightly on the lips as a response. Brotherly, he had kissed me before, but never on the lips. It was too much. As soon as he pulled away, I went back with him, pressing my lips against his. It was awkward for the first few moments, but it was soon comfortable, as I allowed my tongue to explore the inside of his mouth, something I had always dreamed of.

A few months later, the same thing had happened. It was a unanimous decision between the two of us: We loved each other in the other way. But to keep it a secret, we both dated, we both continued on with our lives. This second time, however, it went further.

I remembered every time we had held each other, every time we had been more than brothers. Fred and I shared every intimacy imaginable. He was my heart and my soul. He was my light, everything good about me, he was my best friend.

Back in the empty room, an hour before the battle, I decided not to talk about whether one of us would die. Instead, Fred kissed me lightly, and pulled me into his arms.

It was then that I knew one of us wasn't going to make it. And I had to share that, because it was tearing me up. "Fred, one of us is going to die tonight."

He must have been figuring the same thing, because, he sat down on a table in the middle of the room and pulled me into his lap. "Probably." He whispered. "Are you scared?"

"Like hell." I whispered back, letting him run his hands down my body. It seemed natural that we touched each other. We had touched each other so many times before, some times being much more intimate than others, and it used to scare us both. Now, it seemed to come so purely. We had been intimate in every other way before it became sexual. And we couldn't help but to take it all the way.

I turned and brushed my lips against his. And afraid, fearing the chance that it would be him who would die, I said, "I could never love anybody as much as I love you, ever."

He began stroking my hair. "If I die, I want you to find love again."

"You won't die. If you do, I'll die with you. Oh, Fred, if I die… do whatever will make you happy." I had said that to him meaningfully. If I was to die, I didn't want him to dwell over my death. I wouldn't be able to stand the fact that he was being caused pain.

He whispered in my ear for a moment, comforting words, making me feel like I wanted to melt. I sighed and looked at him. His eyes were scintillating sadly. "I love you, George."

We both knew it was the last moment we would spend together. Don't ask me how we knew one of us would die. Maybe it wasn't meant to be explained, but we knew.

When we were thirteen years old, before the sexuality, we had set a trap in Snape's office. We had set a spell, so that when he touched anything on his desk, that part of his skin would turn green. We hid behind a statue outside his office, and when he came out, a tinge of green on his fingers, we clutched each others arms to keep from giggling. The moment he touched his green finger, his other finger turned green. We sat in wonder, watching his crisis, as his entire arm started to become a different color.

When we were fourteen, Fred came into our room at the Burrow, slammed the door, and started talking. He was just talking. Complaining. He and I were notorious for never complaining about life, but I guess he needed to let it out. He simply told me what was wrong, and he told me exactly why he hated it. And then, he cried, because nobody else understood. I don't remember what he was angry about, but I had sat and listened to him cry.

We had been through so many smiles, and tears. And there in the empty room, during our last moments together, I felt immortal. When you're a kid, you're immortal. Nothing can tear you down. We were both nineteen, almost twenty, and we had held onto our innocence for so long. I couldn't stand the fact that one of us was going to die. But I sat, for what seemed to be forever, my brother – my heart, my soul, my light – holding me in his arms, and I was immortal.

To anybody who is reading this, you couldn't possibly understand, so I won't try to further explain it.

I wouldn't consider this a suicide note, because I have already died. This is only notice that the moment you open the door this note is taped to, you will find my body.

I love you all, and I'm sorry.

XOXOXO

George Weasley


End file.
